


We Never Met

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Oneshots [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Based On The “We Never Met” Couple From When Harry Met Sally, Chance Meetings, F/M, Fate, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Mentions of Cancer, Missed Connections, Porn With Plot, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 00:05:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: “Don’t tell me this is your floor, too.”“No. Mine is on the third.”She cocks an eyebrow. “You didn’t push your button?”He shakes his head. “I guess… I wanted to talk to you.”“So you rode up nine extra floors?”“I guess I did.”“Nine extra floors.” She grins, and he thinks he might ride up a hundred more for that smile.In which Ben and Rey have alwaysjustmissed each other only to come together far from home.





	We Never Met

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohwise1ne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwise1ne/gifts).



> My wife ohwise1ne found out I’d never seen “When Harry Met Sally” and after our movie night I realized that this adorable couple:  
>   
> completely stole my heart. This is 100% based on them. ❤️

* * *

 

“Hey, hold the elevator!”

Ben shoots his hand out, stopping the doors from sliding closed as a woman darts inside. She blows out a breath between a pair of soft-looking lips he doesn’t fail to notice, said lips curling into a grateful smile.

“Thank you,” she offers.

“No problem. What floor?”

“Twelfth, please.”

He presses the button, the doors sliding closed as the elevator lurches upwards from the ground floor. They are silent, Ben sneaking surreptitious glances to the side, unable to keep himself from doing so.

The woman is, for a lack of a better word, _stunning—_ loose chestnut waves framing her face— all pink mouth and wide eyes and pert nose. It is hard to _stop_ stealing glances at her. He feels like this is a moment when he should say something, but what would he say? Ben isn’t exactly proficient at talking to _unattractive strangers,_ much less the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

He shifts slightly, watching the floors climb and realizing he has a very short window. He opens his mouth, hoping that whatever comes out of it is at least _mildly_ engaging and _for God’s sake don’t let him be creepy—_

Then everything goes dark.

For a moment he panics, that fleeting sensation of fear coursing through him at the sudden environment change. Then the emergency light comes on, and he realizes the power has went out.

“What the hell?”

She’s frowning up at the dim lights, shaking her head.

“I think the power is out,” Ben muses.

“No kidding. Isn’t The Ambassador supposed to be a nice hotel?”

“It is. Maybe there’s a grid issue?”

“Perfect,” she huffs. “Of course there is.”

She slumps to the tile floor, leaning her head back against the sleek elevator wall and sighing. She pulls out her cellphone, dialing quickly and putting it to her ear.

“Yes, hi. The elevator has stopped. Is there a problem?” A moment of silence. “Any idea how long we’ll be here?” Another moment. “Okay, great. We’ll just… be here.” She hangs up the phone, blowing out a breath. “Yeah. Grid is down. They’re saying shouldn’t be anymore than twenty minutes or so.”

Seeing no better alternatives, Ben follows her lead, dropping to lean against the opposite wall. “I’m sure it will come back on soon.”

“Doubtful. That’s not really how my day is going.”

She closes her eyes, and Ben takes a second to study her without reservation. Her face is cause for distraction, just so damned _pretty—_ he has to force his eyes away when her eyes flutter open again and pretend he is looking at the lights instead.

“So why has your day been bad?”

She furrows her brow. “Hm?”

“You implied your day was going badly. Why?”

“Oh.” She shrugs one shoulder. “Take your pick. My flight was delayed. I had to walk a mile to find a store that sells toothbrushes because _of course_ the hotel would run out of complementary ones the day I forget mine— I mean what sort of _hotel_ runs out of complementary toothbrushes? Some guy in the hotel bar tried to grab my ass. Plus, it’s my fucking birthday.”

Ben is still stumbling over _some guy in the hotel bar—_ filled with a sudden urge to press her for more details so he can rearrange said man’s face. He then realizes the last thing she’s said, cocking his head.

“It’s your birthday?”

She nods. “Yep.”

“How is that a bad thing?”

She blows out a breath. “Just is.”

“I’m sorry for your shit day,” he offers. _Also, please tell me more about the asshat in the hotel bar,_ he doesn’t say.

Silence stretches between them for several moments, the emergency light flickering slightly as Ben ponders what else he might say to her.

“It was my birthday a week ago. It was pretty shitty, too… if it makes you feel better.”

She laughs. “Weirdly… it kind of does? Why did it suck?”

Ben shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling. “I was working. My mother wanted to have dinner, which I’m sure would have been awkward— but I ended up just going home and eating day-old Chinese.”

“You’re right, that _is_ shitty.” She nods as if to affirm this to herself. “Happy belated birthday, I guess.”

Ben shrugs. “Just another day.”

“How old did you turn?”

“Thirty. You?”

“Twenty-eight.”

_Not too bad._

The thought comes unbidden and he immediately recognizes it’s ridiculous. He doesn’t even know her name.

They seem to be on the same train of thought.

“So what’s your name?” She lets her knees go slack, her legs resting against the floor. “Since we might be here a little bit.”

“Ben. Ben Solo.” Her brow knits slightly, his name giving her pause. “What’s yours?”

“Hm? Oh. Rey. Rey Jackson. With an e, mind you.”

He laughs a little. “With an e. Got it.”

Her expression has turned curious again, staring at him again. “Tell me, Ben. Are you from here?”

He shakes his head. “New York.”

Her eyes widen. “No kidding.”

“Yeah, here for a conference.”

“This is probably ridiculous, but you’re not a doctor are you?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Oh my God,” she laughs. “Do you have a practice in Brooklyn?”

He’s gone from curious to dumbfounded, nodding back at her. “How did you know?”

She’s laughing harder now, shaking her head. “I’ve seen your name on the damn directory every morning for six years on my way to work.”

“You work in my building?”

She nods. “I’m a nurse on the fifteenth floor.”

“You’re kidding.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not.”

“What are the odds?”

“Slim at best. That’s crazy.”

“Have you always lived in New York?”

“I was born there. I lived on Delancey Street until I was eleven.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“Excuse me?”

He huffs out a laugh. “ _I_ lived on Delancey street until I was ten.”

“No way.”

“I did.”

“That’s insane. How is it possible we never ran into each other?”

“No idea. Where did you move to? After that?”

“183rd Street.”

“Okay, all I’m saying is one of us is a stalker.”

“If you tell me you moved to the Bronx—”

“Fordham Road.”

“What the fuck.” She’s giggling, and it’s such a pretty sound. “This is some twilight zone bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.”

“Next you’ll be telling me we were born in the same hospital.”

She gives him a mischievous grin, and his mouth falls open. “Surely not.”

“Same time?”

“One… two…”

“New York Presbyterian,” they say in unison.

Ben is a bit dumbfounded. “That’s just… wow.”

She laughs again. God, he really likes her laugh. “I know. This is really turning my birthday around.”

“Why _are_ you in Chicago for your birthday?”

Her mirthful expression fades then, and he’s immediately sorry he’s asked. “I’m visiting family.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

“It is when they’re dying.”

“Oh. Fuck. I’m really sorry, Rey.”

She shakes her head. “It’s okay. It’s been coming for awhile. She’s been in chemotherapy. There’s a specialist here she’d read about  and she moved out here to be closer. I tried to talk her out of it, but Maz is a stubborn old broad.”

“Maz is your…?”

She frowns. “Foster parent is accurate— although for all intents and purposes… she’s my mom.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s why I moved away from Delancey Street. My parents died in a car crash. They didn’t have any brothers or sisters and my grandparents were already gone… it’s a miracle I ended up with Maz. A fucking miracle.”

He isn’t sure what to say, her story is so _heavy—_ but he senses she needs to tell someone, so he remains quiet.

“We found out last year,” Rey continues. “It came out of nowhere. She moved out here about six months ago when we realized just how serious it was… but if I’m being honest, it was probably too late even then. I just hate that she’s so far away during all this.”

“I can’t imagine. That sounds awful.”

“It is.” She’s nodding. “It _is_ awful. It’s also fucking not fair, you know? Maz is… she’s a fucking saint. I hate everything about it.”

She hangs her head, and he notices her shoulders shaking slightly. Hears the soft sniffling. He knows he has only known this woman for a half-hour, but the overwhelming urge to comfort her is stifling, and he shuffles to the other side of the elevator instinctively to settle beside her. He angles his body towards hers, tentatively wrapping an arm around her just to have her burrow into his chest as quiet sobs escape her.

Not the _worst_ first date he’s ever had.

“I’m sorry,” she warbles. “It’s just been such a shit day. I didn’t make it here in time to see her before visiting hours ended because of my stupid fucking flight… and I just… I don’t have anyone else and it’s my _fucking birthday_ and life is just shit right now.”

“Hey,” he soothes. “It’s okay. Really. I’ve been there.”

He can’t help but think about the day his father passed, how he and his mother grew apart, how it was mostly his fault that it happened. Now it seems a little silly. He doesn’t tell _her_ any of this— it seems like she’s going through enough as it is, but he understands, he thinks. Even if just a little.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I really needed this.”

He just pulls her a little closer, sensing how much she needs it and realizing he does a little as well. He can’t explain it… but it just feels so _natural—_ holding her like this.

“Rey.” He clears his throat. “Do you think—”

The lights suddenly come back on, and the elevator is moving— lurching upwards and pulling them back into reality. She moves away from him, her eyes red with tears that he finds he wants to wipe away. Wants to soothe. She does the deed herself, wiping them in the backs of her hands as she moves to stand.

“Wow,” she laughs shakily. “Probably not what you expected to be doing tonight.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad I could help. If I even did.”

“You did,” she says softly. “Thank you.”

The elevator dings not long after, opening to her floor. She doesn’t immediately move to exit, both of them seemingly hesitant to let this moment end.

“Don’t tell me this is your floor, too.”

He chuckles. “No. Mine is on the third.”

She cocks an eyebrow. “You didn’t push your button?”

He shakes his head. “I guess… I wanted to talk to you.”

“So you rode up nine extra floors?”

“I guess I did.”

“Nine extra floors.” She grins, and he thinks he might ride up a hundred more for that smile.

He clears his throat. “You know… I have cake. In my room.”

“You have cake.”

“Yes,” he nods. “I stole it from the conference last night. It’s still good, I think.”

“You stole cake. From your work conference.”

“No one was eating it. Seemed a waste to let them throw it away.”

“Yes. A waste.”

He shrugs. “Everyone should have cake on their birthday.”

“Yeah.” She’s smiling so hard it _hurts_ him— hurts him in the very best way. “Yeah, they should.”

* * *

Her hands are in his hair, tugging insistently as he finds himself pressed between her and the counter in the tiny kitchenette. Her mouth tastes like the champagne they’ve been indulging in for the last hour— laced with the sweetness of too much cake and it’s _intoxicating._

He isn’t sure what either of them had said to lead to this, one moment simply talking and the next so close that there is no space left between them. He’s been thinking about it since about seven seconds after having met her, if he’s being honest.

He just hadn’t thought it might _actually_ happen.

But she’s leaning into him, touching him, _kissing him—_ two hours ago he didn’t know her name and now she’s just _here—_ it’s dizzying.

Ben doesn’t believe in fate, but with this woman who he’s _just missed_ for what is apparently his entire life— he thinks he might have to rethink things. She makes some little sound when his hand splays over her lower back, a soft whimper in the back of her throat that he wants to consume.

“Is this okay?” He knows they’ve both had several glasses of champagne, and the last thing he wants is for her to regret this tomorrow.

“It’s okay,” she breathes, her lips moving over his throat now and he pulls her a little tighter.

“Because nothing has to—”

“Shut up, Ben.” She presses up on her toes to capture his mouth again, and he melts into her kiss.

Her fingers work at the buttons of his shirt, and when they push under the cotton of his undershirt, he actually groans into her mouth.

“Can, I—” He swallows nervously. “Can I see you?”

Her lips curl into a grin, and she steps away from him before reaching to grip the hem of her shirt. She pulls it up and over in one swift motion, the simple white cotton of her bra possibly the most enticing thing he’s ever seen.

He closes the distance between them, needing his mouth on hers again as he pulls her to him. He can’t help the way his hands roam over her skin, sliding up her ribs to cover her breasts as he palms them roughly.

She arches into his hands, a soft gasp escaping her as he reaches behind to grip her beneath her thighs. He hoists her up, crushing her to his chest and carrying her through the attached living space to the bedroom.

He spreads her out over the comforter, leaning over her to press a lingering kiss at her mouth as his hands work at her jeans. She lifts her hips to aid him in pulling them off, her fingers curling into his hair again and tugging in the way he’s learning he loves.

She sighs when he nips at her pulse point, covering her with his body even as her hands smooth over his shoulders and she tugs at his shirt insistently. “Take this off.”

He leans back, quickly ridding himself of his button down and then following with his undershirt. Her hands move over his abdomen, and he can’t help but move closer to kiss her again. He’s beginning to be unable to remember a time _before_ kissing her.

Her fingers are at the button of his jeans, pulling at them insistently and he shifts his hips so that she can push them down. He kicks them away, rolling against her as his cock slots against her center. He thrusts against her, loving the soft moan she makes as he rubs his aching cock against the thin lace of her underwear.

“ _Ben_ ,” she whimpers. “I want—”

“ _Shh_. I’ve got you.”

He reaches behind her, flicking the clasp on her bra and letting the straps fall away as he pulls them from her arms. Her tits are on the smaller side, but when he flattens his tongue against a taut peak— her sharp gasp leaves nothing to be desired. So _sensitive._

_Perfect._

His hands find her underwear, sliding them over her hips and down her legs until she’s left naked beneath him. He runs two fingers up the length of her slit, and she’s so _wet—_ wet for _him._ He lets those same fingers slip inside her, and her mouth parts as her eyes close. _Fuck,_ he wants to be inside her, he’s never wanted anything more, but—

“Rey… this is terrible timing, but I don’t have a condom.”

“It’s fine.” Her hands grip his shoulders. “I have an implant. I’m clean. Are you?”

“Yes,” he chokes out, grinding his fingers into her, unable to think of anything outside of what it will feel like when he’s _actually_ inside her. “I’m clean.”

“I want this,” she assures breathily. “I want _you.”_

“ _Fuck.”_ She’s tugging at his briefs now, and he can’t get them off fast enough. Her hands find his cock, stroking him as her lips find his and her tongue slips inside and he finds himself _lost._

The slide of his cock through her folds is _everything—_ better than anything he’s ever felt. But he knows there is something better. _Knows_ it will wreck him completely.

He dips his hips to press at her entrance, leaning up on his elbows so that he can watch her face as he presses inside. Her eyes flutter as he sinks into her, feeling the warm wet of her cunt as it stretches around him.

His lips find hers, warm and wet and _so soft—_ just like the rest of her.

Her legs come around him, pulling him deeper, begging for _more—_ it’s everything. Everything he could ever want.

He begins to move— long, deep thrusts into her as his body slides against hers. He can’t contain the way he slams into her, chasing that gripping feeling of ecstasy that promises just over the horizon. Her nails dig into the muscle of his arms, her teeth at his shoulder, her voice in his ear.

“Ben,” she whines. “I’m so close. I’m _so_ close.”

His fingers grip her hips, pulling her onto his cock harder, _faster—_ pounding into her warmth with everything he has. His thrusts are becoming erratic, feeling that tingling heat building at the base of his spine as it floods his cock, impossibly swelling further.

He’s right there, his orgasm so close he can feel it in every nerve ending of his body— but he needs to feel her come apart first. Her body is so tense, her breath leaving her in needy little pants, and she _is_ so close. He can feel it.

She trembles when she falls over the edge, her cunt gripping him like a vice, and it’s enough to allow him to finally let go. He grunts through his orgasm, burrowing his face in her hair and pulling her close as he empties deep inside her. Her fingers wind into his hair, her lips at his jaw, and he’s never felt more complete than he does in this moment.

He holds her close to him after, the only sounds in the room the quiet hum of the air conditioning as his fingers trace her spine. Her leg is draped over his thigh, nestled into his side perfectly as if she _belongs_ there.

“It’s funny,” she says eventually.

“Hm?”

“How we’ve just been… gravitating around each other all these years.”

“It seems impossible. Seems we’ve always been _right there.”_

“And we never met,” she whispers.

“We never met.”

“Is it weird to tell you I’m glad we did? Finally?”

He presses a kiss to her temple. “No. I am too.”

She nuzzles closer to him, her cheek resting against his chest. His hand curls around her hip, and his nose brushes along her hair as he inhales deeply.

“Would it be weird if I offered to go with you tomorrow?”

She pushes up on her hands, peering down at him. “You’d do that?”

He shrugs. “Call it a late birthday present.”

She grins. “I… would love that. Actually.”

She is grinning when she curls back into him, and he pulls her as close as she’s able to be as his lips find her forehead to linger there. “And when we both get back… I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“That sounds… perfect.” They are quiet for a several moments before she speaks again. “Hey, Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“So, where do you live now?”

“East Village.”

She laughs, looking up at him, and his mouth falls open. “Don’t tell me.”

She only laughs harder, biting her lip as she shrugs. She leans in to kiss him, shaking her head. “You know… at this point? I’m not even surprised.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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